


I Wanna Do the Backstage Boogie (With You)

by kinetikatrue



Category: Hockey RPF, Montreal Canadiens RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Drinking Games, First Time, Locked In, M/M, Mutual Pining, Never Have I Ever, Seduction, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinetikatrue/pseuds/kinetikatrue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First thing PK is doing after they get out is finding money in the budget to get the lock on the basement door fixed. Then he might have to buy Brendan a new bottle of Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Do the Backstage Boogie (With You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomebodyOwens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomebodyOwens/gifts).



> For A, because I didn't get assigned you, but I thought of this as soon as I saw your letter. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.

After PK slams the door to their creaky old washer shut, he turns to find Carey standing in the door to the wardrobe room. He's a welcome sight - PK never wants to wash another pair of tights again - but unexpected. Usually when Carey settles in to do stage-manager-y stuff he gets in the zone and doesn't come out until he's done what he needed to do.

And he's pretty much never finished before PK, even on bad laundry days.

Carey's looking annoyed, and he sounds it too when he says, "You'll never guess what Brendan did."

And that's probably true - it's a fool's game to try and predict Brendan, unless someone's making him mad - but what PK can guess is, "But it sucks to be you."

Carey snorts and says, "You, too - he went and locked us in. Probably by accident, but…"

"But it doesn't really matter." They're stuck here one way or the other, overnight, unless somebody else comes back to get something. The cell reception is shitty - and the lock, well…

It's stupid: there's the usual lock on the outside, and it works, but the twisty bit on the inside doesn't turn (it's broken because _somebody_ had the bright idea to mess with it so they could lock Brendan in) and they haven't come up with the money for a new one yet. Mostly they keep it propped open and close it when the last person leaves for the day. It's not like anyone is gonna try and get in and steal their stuff.

And anyway, it's just the lock to the basement door, not the entrance to the theatre.

But now it's shut and locked, with them on the inside - and it's a fire door, so there'd be no point trying to hack through it even if either of them wanted to risk the theatre's tools like that. They're well and truly stuck here, unless somebody comes back for something, which they won't, because it's a Friday night during rehearsals. Still, PK's the kind of guy who rolls with the punches and makes lemonade whenever he's handed unexpected lemons, so.

He grins, wide, and tells Carey, "Well, I'm thinking this calls for a slumber party. Break out the nail polish, steal the bottle of Jack that Brendan thinks nobody knows he has stashed in the scene shop, put on some tunes…," and, with a waggle of his eyebrows, continues, "maybe even play some _party games_."

That gets a grimace out of Carey, as he says, "I'm not playing Truth or Dare," in the tone that he usually uses to say things like 'You aren't hanging out in the wings for the entire first act' or 'You can't have a day off rehearsals to go to a playoffs game'.

"But you didn't say no to Never Have I Ever!" PK says, grin stretching even wider.

Carey makes another face at that, but he says, "Maybe," and PK is going to count that as the victory that it is.

"Well, why don't you go finish whatever you were doing - and I'll finish what I was doing," PK says, waving at the racks of costumes and the pile of stuff waiting to be put away, "and then we can meet by the scene shop. We've got some alcohol to pillage."

Carey's still not actually smiling - and it's possible that he's grumpy because he had a hot date or something he was planning to get to after he'd finished up his paperwork - but he doesn't look quite as completely annoyed as he had when he first showed up in PK's doorway. So another point to PK. It's his ongoing mission to make Carey smile at every possible opportunity.

Anyway, Carey says, "Fine," and then he's gone, leaving PK's doorway empty once again.

***

Even with the interruption, PK still beats Carey to the scene shop.

He can't get in - Carey has the key on his special stage manager-y keyring - so he sits on the floor outside and considers the game of Never Have I Ever in his future. The alcohol is obviously essential. And all the charm PK can muster; every time the cast and crew play drinking games, Carey refuses to join in. He says it would be weird, what with him being SM.

PK says whatever to that, because he doesn't actually believe Carey means it, but Carey's stubborn and he's yet to be moved on the subject - all PK can hope is that just playing with him will be enough to change Carey's mind.

He's sitting there, singing to himself, when Carey finally turns up. He looks tired, like whatever he was doing on his laptop in the storage closet he calls an office just completely did him in. PK's glad he only has to deal with costume inventory - and occasionally writing an email requesting supplies or tools.

And Brandon's costume designs - but PK generally tries to forget those unless he's interacting with them.

He leads with, "So, let's get you a drink."

Carey raises an eyebrow and waves his keyring on its carabiner in PK's direction, but he goes ahead and unlocks the scene shop, so whatever. They're gonna drink all Brendan's whiskey and PK's not gonna feel even a little sorry about it. Because that's what you get when you lock your SM inside the workrooms overnight.

Fortunately, the bottle of Jack is exactly where PK thought it would be, inside an otherwise empty toolbox hidden on top of a set of utility shelves, far away from most of the stray sawdust, because Brendan isn't a complete idiot.

Once it's been extracted, PK grins and says, "Okay, now time for drinks and a delicious dinner of ramen and beef jerky - there's even dried fruit and granola bars for dessert!" There could be chocolate, because PK has some of that hidden away, too, but he's not breaking that out unless it gets a lot more desperate; he needs it for getting through days where just about every single actor in the cast manages to break some part of their costume.

"I'm kinda regretting eating my leftover pizza for lunch," Carey admits, and PK knew it, the look on his face is totally going to become a smile eventually, even if it isn't quite there, yet.

PK has _got_ this.

***

Putting dinner together isn't a complicated process. They each have a travel mug in their personal stashes, for the coffee they drink on a daily basis and mainline during Hell Weeks - those are good enough for whiskey. They crank the electric kettle for the ramen - and PK raids his backpack for the rest of the food he promised.

Because PK treats his backpack like a survival kit and always makes sure it's stocked with stuff like a deck of cards; beef jerky, dried fruit and granola bars; a spare t-shirt and pair of boxers; a toothbrush; bandaids; his iPod and headphones, plus usually a sketchbook and a bottle of lotion and a book to read on the bus.

The deck of cards give him an idea, though, and he turns around with his armload of food with a smile on his face, says, "So, okay, I'm willing to give you a reprieve on the game of Never Have I Ever…because I have an even better idea: we should play strip poker."

Carey makes another face at that one, but not a completely bad one, like he's actually kind of into the idea, but doesn't want to admit it.

That means PK has him, so he puts on his best puppy dog eyes and says, "Aww, c'mon - do you think you're gonna lose? Well, I mean, you _are_ , but it's not like you have anything to be ashamed of showing off. And I promise to only give you a little shit about it."

It works exactly like it's supposed to - Carey looks like he knows exactly what PK did there, but he still says, "Oh, fuck you - you're the one going down. Hope you dressed in layers."

And PK did - if there's one thing he's learned from years of theatre, it's that there are gonna be days when you'll want to be able to strip down to a tank-top and then layer up again an hour later, including the extra jacket he keeps stashed with his chocolate and ramen - but the plan calls for him to lose as much of that as possible, and it all works better if Carey is actually into seeing what PK keeps under his jeans.

Even if he isn't, PK's obligated to say, "You'll be lucky if you get to get a good look at all this," and gesture like one of those women who demonstrate the hot new products on infomercials, which his body totally is.

Carey's not looking when he does it, unfortunately - apparently the kettle clicked off while they were giving each other shit and he's busy pouring water over their ramen. PK just shrugs, though - Carey may have missed PK showing off his impressive gesturing skills, but the important part is him seeing PK get naked. Well, mostly, anyway.

Even better if Carey ends up mostly naked, too - or all the way.

***

After washing up the dinner dishes in the break corner sink, they settle back in at the table they used in the last show - and then replaced the old break table with. It's a little uneven in the legs, because it got beat up a bunch during the run, but they don't need to worry about doing _more_ damage to it anyway. Which is pretty much always a plus around theatre people.

Their chairs are folding metal, and that's gonna suck a bit when they lose their pants, but if this all works out the way PK's hoping it will, there's gonna be cuddling, so he'll deal.

Things start out pretty much the way PK was expecting them to. They're about evenly matched - Carey has a better poker face, but PK makes up for that by joking his way through his hands, which he guesses is kinda like having a good poker face, but louder. And he suspects he's more willing to bluff.

PK makes sure that he's the first one to lose a piece of clothing, dramatically removing his hoodie when Carey comes up with two pairs in the first hand, and telling him, "Oh, yeah, you're totally gonna beat me. I'm gonna be sitting here naked while you wiggle your bare toes at me."

Carey snorts in response, like he can't be bothered to respond to PK's ridiculousness - which to be fair, is how their interactions usually go. And something PK takes completely in stride. It's not like he's not aware of what comes out of his mouth sometimes. Anyway, by the time PK's lost not only his hoodie and the long-sleeved shirt under it, but also both his shoes, Carey's gotten into the spirit of things and is slyly trash-talking PK back.

Though he's mostly been looking at the cards - and not PK - which won't do at all.

"Yep, I was right - nothing to be ashamed of," he says, while he's waiting for Carey to decide what he's doing with his current hand, staring long and lasciviously at Carey's arms and chest, which are still covered by a long-sleeved t-shirt, yes, but it's _tight_ and the view is _nice_.

The reaction that gets is great: Carey doesn't look up, but the way he's staring at his cards makes PK think he's probably not getting much out of them, plus the tips of his ears go pink. Then he discards two cards from his hand, replaces them with new ones and puts them all down on the table, showing PK his hand. If he had any kind of hand to start with, he's just trashed it.

PK manages to keep the grinning and fist-pumping on the inside as he puts his own hand down, but he's feeling pleased: it's only going to take a single pair to get Carey's shirt off, even if that pair isn't his hands, so he just has to say, "Oh, look - you lost your shirt."

Carey gives him a baleful look as PK gathers up all the cards and shuffles the deck for the second time since the game started, but doesn't remove his shirt. "Off with it - you lost that hand fair and square. You're not gonna be a sore loser, are you?"

That gets an even more disgruntled look out of Carey, but he won't admit that PK distracted him by perving on him and they both know it, so he peels out of his shirt and drops it on top of his sweater. "Fine. Gonna deal me another hand so I can make you lose your entire wardrobe?"

"Aww, you want to make me wander around naked? I didn't know you felt that way…," PK says, but he deals them both hands. They've still got clothes to lose.

" _PK_ ," Carey says, and his tone is flat, but PK thinks he sounds a little strangled, too, so maybe that hit a little close to home? A boy can hope, anyway.

The next four hands are uneventful, as they bet and lose all their socks - and Carey does, in fact, wiggle his toes at PK. Apparently, he's made his peace with sitting across the table from PK bare-chested. Which, to be fair, might partially be because PK hasn't been pressing the issue.

Though, really, Carey should know him well enough to know that PK isn't out of tricks on that front; such wishful thinking, but there's a reminder coming soon enough.

The first hand after the next shuffle ends with PK taking his t-shirt off like he's doing a strip-tease, which he kind of is. He slides it slowly up over his chest, revealing his abs and pecs inch by inch, making a show out of taking it the last inch that brings his nipples into view. He's pretty sure the face he's making is ridiculous even compared to his usual standards, but he definitely doesn't care. It's really too bad that his iPod isn't offering him better music to strip to.

It's an entirely calculated move to stand up and turn around as he brings the shirt up over his shoulders and off his arms and head - he knows exactly what his shoulders and ass look like.

When he turns back to face Carey, t-shirt dangling off his fingers to drop onto the pile of his other shirts, well, he definitely has to take a moment to savor the picture Carey makes: neck and ears pinked up, lips a little parted, body leant forward in his chair. But now is not the time to press the issue - he's got cards to deal and a pair of pants to lose a hand over. So, ignoring Carey's reaction and playing the next hand it is. PK _can_ be merciful.

But he's also really glad that he wore the pair of underwear he did today - they do excellent things for his...assets.

In the end, they play the hand in silence, concentrating on the fate of both their pairs of pants - though PK intends to make sure of getting the outcome he wants: his pants coming off in another, even slower striptease. He'll get Carey's pants off the hand after, but he's gotta amp up Carey's reaction first, maybe even leave him with a bit of a problem to hide. If he's really lucky.

It all plays out exactly the way PK masterminded it to: he loses the hand, completely believably, and gets Carey's equivalent of a smile like a shark in response. It's a good look on him, and it sticks around until PK stands up and slowly starts sliding the button out of the buttonhole on his jeans. PK can see the moment when the realization of what's about to happen hits him, too - that PK's about to take off his pants, as slowly as possible, and there's nothing Carey can do or say about it.

After all, he's supposed to want to win this game - and getting PK (almost) naked is winning.

Once PK has the button free, he starts sliding the zip down as slowly as he can manage, almost going tooth by tooth - and holding Carey's gaze the entire time. He doesn't get a reaction immediately - Carey's a stubborn asshole - but he's sure there's one brewing, if the shirt-tease was anything to go by. When he turns to work his jeans down over his ass, after slowly parting the flies, he throws in a wink.

He doesn't turn back until he's slid them down inch by inch and bent over to take them off one leg at a time, giving his ass as much time to get a reaction as possible; it truly deserves Carey having the time to appreciate it fully, if PK does say so himself.

PK's not sure what exactly Carey's going to be looking like when when PK gets a look at him, but the reality turns out to, well, gratifying, to say the least. Carey's just sitting there, cards on the table, exactly where he left them, looking just a bit stunned. As he should be after seeing PK's ass in this pair of boxer-briefs. They do fucking magical things for PK's already delectable assets in his totally not biased opinion.

It's an actual scientific fact.

Rubbing it in would be cruel - and PK actually likes Carey - so sitting down and dealing them one more hand it is. After all, this time he gets to say, "I bet my underwear," and watch Carey as he almost bets the same before remembering that he's actually still on jeans. And then completely fumble his hand and lose spectacularly.

Really, it's kinda cute, but PK sticks to reminding Carey, "The jeans come off, now."

Carey doesn't try to do anything like PK did when he takes his jeans off - he undoes the fly and slides them down his hips without any fanfare, but at least he doesn't drag his heels. And the sight of him in nothing but a pair of boxers, oh, that does it for PK for sure. His lower half vanishes, giving PK his brain back, when he sits down in his chair again, apparently preparing to stoically wait for PK to deal them one more hand.

"So, I was thinking - how about we call this a draw and play some Never Have I Ever?"

And Carey says yes so fast that he apparently misses what he was agreeing to in the process, because a moment later he makes a face over it.

"No take-backs," PK says, before Carey can object. "You coulda said no and you didn't. Anyway, it'll be fun - I promise!" And if PK has things go his way, it'll be even more than fun, but that's getting ahead of himself.

***

Playing Never Have I Ever while wearing nothing but boxers is not a new experience for PK, but he suspects it might be for Carey, even though they're both veterans of doing theatre. But he lets PK direct him to the couch they're taking over for the purpose, and pour Jack into his travel cup, and generally get things going. It all makes PK feel more than a little fond of him.

PK's first Never Have I Ever is, "I have never fellated a banana," because 'fellated' is a great word and it's a funny story - and it's all part of the plan for him to open the drinking.

Unsurprisingly, Carey has not, in fact, done the same thing - and all he does is roll his eyes at PK and fail to ask for the story. More fool him: PK will just tell it with more acting out once they've both drunk some more. But it does the trick.

Carey offers the more boring, "I have never walked in on anyone having sex," which PK has to drink to, as well, because their co-workers, despite ostensibly being adults, sometimes leave a bit to be desired when it comes to things like workplace appropriate behavior.

The obvious follow-up to that is, "I've never been walked in on while having sex," which, unexpectedly, also gets Carey to drink. PK considers asking for the story, but then decides against it; he doesn't want them to get off track, not with his very important mission on the line.

After Carey responds with, "I've never gone streaking," things devolve a bit from there.

PK professes that he's never mooned a bus full of hockey players - it was great; he has no regrets - and Carey replies that he's never made up dirty lyrics to a children's song, and it devolves even further.

They haven't been going slowly with the alcohol, either, so when PK finally offers that he's never played drinking games backstage, it apparently strikes Carey just right to set him off laughing, a long hiccuping string of chuckles that are simultaneously ridiculous-sounding and cute. And, yep, PK is completely fucked. He just has to hope that Carey is, too.

When Carey finally trails off laughing and manages to get it together enough to take his turn, he offers, "I've never gotten drunk off stolen alcohol."

PK cheerses that, drinks, and says, "I've never had sex with somebody I work with while under the influence," because cast parties, man, sometimes they lead you to make amazing decisions, sometimes terrible ones - and sometimes those are one and the same; PK has got _stories_.

The Jack's still burning down his throat when he notices that Carey's travel cup never left the arm of the couch that time, which isn't actually surprising - Carey can party as hard as any theatre person, but he tries to draw as much of a line between work and pleasure as he can. Thus, no playing drinking games with the rest of the cast and crew and, apparently, never hooking up with anybody he's ever worked with either. It's his life - and his choice - obviously, but it makes PK kinda sad.

But what comes out of his mouth next is basically a cheesy pick-up line. "I could help you with that," he says, then, "no, wait, back up: I really, really want to help you with that. If I had my way, nobody else would get to have a chance at the job ever again." Jack doesn't usually make him this babblingly earnest, but, well, apparently Carey brings that out in him.

As for Carey, when PK looks, it's looking like he's just had his entire worldview turned on its head, but he gets it together enough to say, "You - really? As in, you, who doesn't date, want to _date_ me?"

"I want to have your little Canadian babies - or at least spend the rest of our lives raising a theatre company togther," which, in PK's experience of his sisters' kids, is about the same amount of work. He figures it makes for a solid declaration of intent, anyway.

It clearly gets his point across, at least. Carey puts down his drink, spends a moment looking at PK amazedly, and then grabs PK's face with both hands and smashes their lips together. It's not a very smooth kiss, but PK's definitely not complaining, not when Carey is demonstrating just how into PK's plan he is.

***

Later, once they've come up for air and flopped back on the couch, Carey says, offhandedly, "I've got a stash of condoms and travel packets of lube in my office," then adds, when PK gives him a _for what?_ look, "For our infamously horny co-workers - they were gonna fuck down here anyway; I figured it was better to help them not be stupid about it."

And, yeah, that's about right for Carey, but PK just snorts and waves him off, says, "I just want to get my mouth on your dick - and as long as there isn't anything about it I should want to stay away from…"

Carey makes a face at that, but shakes his head, so PK takes one more sip of whiskey and slides off the couch and onto his knees in front of Carey. His dick isn't fully hard yet, but it's clearly not whiskey-dick; when PK pulls it out the opening in Carey's boxers, it firms up some just from him touching it. And after a few strokes more, it's most of the way to standing at attention.

When PK slides his mouth down over it, down to meet his hand at the base, Carey doesn't _scream_ , but he definitely reacts - which is the point of adding in the whiskey, a nice little burn when you swirl it around a guy's dick; PK's been into it ever since a guy at uni did it to him for the first time.

It apparently does it for Carey, as well. He's slouching further down the couch and spreading his legs more, pushing his dick deeper into PK's mouth. And that's good for PK, too, feeling the head bump against the roof of his mouth and the whiskey swirl and slosh over his tongue and the insides of his cheeks. It's the opposite of going down on a banana, soft skin over blood-stiff flesh rather than hard skin over squishy innards, and not nearly as sharply curved.

The banana makes a fun story, but PK definitely prefers real dicks when it comes to things to suck on.

Especially when guys do what Carey's doing, and cup a hand around the back of his head, not quite holding him in place, but completing the connection, making the beej something they're both participating in. PK can give - and certainly has given his share of - the kind of showy head that asks nothing of the guy getting it but that he sit there and take it. And he's gone to his knees to get used, to let guys fuck his mouth while holding his head in place. But this, where it's not just about giving or just about taking, yeah, that's the best.

And Carey fucking his mouth just a little - short, little thrusts that rub the sides of his dick against PK's lips and the roof of his mouth - is doing it for him, too.

Then Carey says, "Fuck, PK - your mouth. I've thought about it...about you sucking me. And I thought you'd be good. But I never coulda imagined this." It's way more than PK had ever expected him to talk during sex, and it gets PK where he lives, the part of him that looks forward to Carey saying 'good work' after a show or putting his hand out for their secret celebratory handshake at the end of a successful run.

If Carey keeps talking, PK may go off without ever getting Carey to touch him anywhere besides his head.

Which means it's time to double down on the suction and the tongue-and-whiskey action. Slurp a little more. Maybe add in a little humming. And let Carey's words wash over him, a river of 'fucks' and 'PKs' and 'God, mores' that round off his edges but don't sweep him away over the edge.

It's close, in the end, but PK's still holding it together when he feels Carey's dick give a warning pulse in his mouth. He's got a split-second to brace himself for the onslaught of come, and the Carey's filling his mouth, come mixing with whiskey. It was a bit of a weird flavor combination the first time PK tried it, but now it's one he loves, salty and smoky-sweet - and associated with the feeling of a job well done.

When he pulls off and swallows, he looks up to find Carey staring down at him, quiet now, but opened up in a way that PK doesn't think he's ever seen him - which, well, orgasms will do you like that sometimes.

But he doesn't spend long staring - no surprise; PK's seen Carey pull himself together and get on with things under much more trying circumstances. He reaches down a hand to pull PK up off his knees and then staggeringly forward down onto his lap. And then his other hand unfolds to reveal a travel packet of lube. "Found it between the cushions - looks like they've started stashing supplies wherever they think they might need them," he says, voice a little rough - but he's smiling, and PK will take it.

Also, their co-workers are ridiculous and apparently about to set him off laughing in the middle of having sex with Carey for the first time.

Or they would be, if Carey weren't reaching for the waistband of his boxers to pull them down over his ass. That, combined with the packet of lube he's holding stops the laughter in PK's throat. Because one of the things PK loves best about Carey are his hands - and he's had _thoughts_ about what Carey's fingers could do to him. And it's looking like he'll find out.

Carey's tearing the packet of lube open, and coating his fingers - and, yes, reaching around behind PK to rub them over PK's asshole. It's not going to take much to open PK up right now, not as turned on as he is - he can already feel himself loosening up more, like his body's saying to Carey _yes, come on in_.

So he might as well tell Carey, "You can go right to two."

"You want it that rough?" Carey asks, like that isn't a surprising idea, but he maybe hadn't expected tonight to go there.

PK shrugs, says, "I'm that fucking turned on. I just spent a lot of quality time sucking you off - which was so goddamn hot. And what I've been thinking about your hands...well, you probably don't actually want to know."

And turns out that Carey's as direct as usual when he's settled into having sex. He says, "I think I want you to tell me while I stick my fingers in you," and it's not just a suggestion.

Which, _fuck_ , that does it for PK, too. So he smirks and says, "You asked for it. So, let's get a couple things clear, first. Your hands are, well, for lack of a better word, _nice_. Or fucking hot. Both, whatever. Plus, you have such good fingers - long, and with strength to them. And you're good with them. 'Course they made me think things."

That gets him Carey teasing him with just a hint of penetration, which is great, but PK wants more, wants it _all_ , so he continues, says, "I thought about them touching me, of course - and you using them on my dick, circling them around it and getting a nice, strong grip going." And, yep, that prompt got him Carey's other hand providing a bit of hand-job action, which, yes, is exactly as good as PK expected it to be.

So he rewards Carey with a little more of what _he_ asked for. "But you can probably guess what I thought about most: you sticking them up my ass. I imagined it maybe happening at a cast party, or maybe sometime when we all went out for drinks we might end up in the bathroom at the same time, and somehow that would lead to us sharing a stall while you fingerfucked me into the cinder-block wall."

 _That_ gets him more of what he was looking for, Carey shoving his fingers right in when PK says 'finger-fucked' - and while he stutters a little over cinder-block, he manages to keep it together, keep going enough to get a little more specific, say, "I thought about you teasing me, just running a finger around and around the rim but not putting anything in. I thought about how one of them would feel - and two. Three would be niiiiice, I thought. And four, four might be a lot. But totally worth it. Because you'd take your time and do it right, get me worked up, and then work them in and out and in out until I just came apart in your hands."

PK gets all that out, but barely, because by the time he gets to him coming apart in Carey's hands, he's doing it in reality, too, ass clenching and dick feeling like it's about to explode. When he lets himself stop talking, lets his body do what it wants, his orgasm explodes out of him, splattering Carey's chest with come and following it with the weight of his body.

He tells Carey, "I think I'm just gonna spend the night here - 's comfortable."

Carey is, of course, a spoilsport who says, "We're gonna clean up after ourselves - and put together some kind of bed." But what else should PK have expected out of a stage-manager?

***

They end up sleeping on the only real mattress from the _Once Upon A Mattress_ set, though they have to move a bunch of stuff out of the way first, since real estate in the storage room is too valuable to store it flat. It's a bit like how PK imagines sleeping in a thrift store might go, if they somehow got locked in there instead, what with the mish-mash of furniture and accessories in bins and stacks and odd clusters surrounding them.

And once he's recovered from the sex, PK's up for more entertainment, so he digs out the company's nail polish collection, plugs in his iPod again and tries to convince Carey to let PK give him a manicure. The surprising thing is that it actually works, even if the only color Carey will accept is blue. PK compromises by sneakily choosing one with a bit of sparkle. Everybody wins.

Really, the only downside to the whole thing, aside from getting locked in in the first place, is getting found the next morning when Alex comes in early and goes looking for something in props. But, then, it could've been worse - it could've been Brendan. Alex will only demand favors from them for keeping it a secret.

Anyway, PK has Carey - and he still gets to start the day wearing clean underwear.


End file.
